Motherhood is oriented to firsts.

Our   baby’s first smile,

first step,

first word.

Some firsts seem

to take

forever after that baby is

born. Like the first time

mom can have an uninterrupted

conversation (months) or read

an entire book and actually

remember the contents (years).

The only hint that it’s

not all about firsts

comes from older women.

They fuss

over our darling

babies with delight.

When they do, our

traitorous babies

choose to make

liars of us—cooing

back as if they don’t

have colic and diaper

rash and the constant

desire to dominate our

lives.

These older women

use some kind of code

known only to those

whose babies are long

grown up. (Maybe

a secret society.) The

way they operate is so

consistent that clearly

it’s a ritual of some

kind.There’s always a

pause

in their baby chortling.

They look us in the eye rather firmly

and say some version of the very same

thing.  “They’re little for such a short time.” Or,

“These years go by so fast.” Or, “Enjoy every moment.”

They speak with

varying degrees of

intensity but they’re

damn serious. They

want us to know

something they didn’t

know, that no one

really knows fully

until their babies are

grown.

Despite the exhaustion

and sleepless nights

and the loss of one’s

freedom to the cutest

loud smelly creature

ever, the earliest years

are packed with heart-

filling wonder.

When our babies

grow up we see that

motherhood is also

filled with lasts. The

last time we’ll change

a diaper is worthy of a

celebration, true.

There’s also a last

time holding a little

hand to cross a street,

the last tucking into

bed, the last book read

aloud, the last of many

blessedly ordinary

expressions of love

once enfolded

into daily

life with a child.

Such “lasts” line the

way toward our child’s

adulthood. They

remind us to cherish

every moment.

As a mother who is now shorter (okay,

much shorter) than each of her four children,

I claim the right to coo over babies and tell new

mothers in all seriousness, “these years go by so fast.”

I haven’t been invited into the secret society yet. I hope

there’s not a dress code.  I’m NOT wearing any damn red hat.

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Creative Commons image credits

Baby hand flickr.com/photos/jvnunag/2629851943

Woman and baby  picasaweb.google.com/…/9NX5sOZc8XwaveIURkiqGw

Eye flickr.com/photos/43927576@N00/531269809

Angel girl  flickr.com/photos/tianderson/286211866/

Baby  flickr.com/photos/50824868@N00/197011571

Little girl flickr.com/photos/40379737@N00/3812002166/

Boys in street flickr.com/photos/mcsimon/1266570816/